Bunnies Heads Up Kittens Tails First
by orpheneritus
Summary: Jirou's good intentions go astray on Valentine's Day.


Bunnies Head First; Kittens Tails Up by orpheneritus 

In Atobe's most esteemed opinion, Valentine's Day was one of the worst holidays. It ranked only marginally above Christmas on the sole merit that he needn't be forced into the company of his immediate family members and the seemingly endless engagements that stemmed from their very presence.

Atobe had the unfortunate distinction of being one of the favoured objects of love confessions and gifts, having had more than his fair share of tears spilt in his honour. Unlike Oshitari Yuushi, who wasn't a representative of the student council and was woefully lacking in extracurricular activities other than tennis, he did not have the luxury of simply ignoring the gifts piled upon his desk and in his locker.

As a result most of his spare time between February fourteen and March fourteen was occupied with the polite and thoughtful reciprocation of the many gifts he had received. He had thought that over the years his cool and impersonal response to the many heartfelt gifts would been seen as a sign of his indifference and eventually the number of gifts he received annually, would slope into nothing.

He had obviously miscalculated the magnetism of his many charms, which was surprising as he thought himself quite charming. Yet the number of gifts accumulating in his name increased every year without fail, until last year he'd been forced to stay up late into the evening of March thirteenth writing gift cards. The puffiness of his eyes the following day was nothing short of appalling.

Naturally Jirou, in his good natured way, had offered his help. And although he couldn't actually use the replies written by his team mate, he didn't consider it a waste of note paper as Jirou had an amusing turn of phrase.

'Your chocolate was yummy, so thanks very much. I ate the bunnies head first and the kittens tails up.'

Atobe couldn't describe the scent of an impending Valentine's day, he only knew that around the first week of February he would smell it. The perceptible flare of his nostrils, the sting of a cunning, or dull and unoriginal as was usually the case, plan. This sudden and inexplicable sensation in his nose was a sure sign that within a ten meter radius a girl was planning her Valentine surprise.

This year was worse than ever. He was seriously considering taking one of his mother's little yellow pills and spending the following week in a delightful haze. However, being the Student Council President was a heavy responsibility that hardly loaned itself to self prescribed drug therapy.

The dreaded day dawned crisp but sunny, with Atobe, unfortunately in the very best of health. Reluctantly performing his morning routine, he was ready for school promptly at seven thirty.

It occurred to him that being practically perfect could be a real inconvenience at times, and that perhaps a little slovenly behaviour might save him some hassles and of course prevent him from becoming an uptight prig whose powers of anal retention were truly frightening. Naturally he didn't ponder for too long… otherwise he might be late for the worst day of the year.

It was strange. Atobe had expected clusters of impassable females with ribboned boxes to be blockading the courtyard entrance to the school. And yet it was strangely deserted. The litter of glitter red hearts and white tissue paper carelessly cast aside was left skittering over the stones.

He picked up the paper from the ground and went to change into his school shoes. He expected his box to be squashed full of valentines, but there was nothing. With a shrug Atobe turned to toss the paper into the rubbish bin and found the garbage bag had been hastily tied off as it bulged dangerously over the edges of the bin.

Instead he stuffed the paper into his pocket and slipped off his outdoor shoes. Grabbing his indoor shoes from his box a paper slipped and fluttered to the floor.

Chilled morning, crisp wind  
Blankets warm, sleeping in  
Dream long days away

Sleeping in?

Atobe checked his wristwatch, quarter past eight, as always… and yet the clock above the door read quarter past nine. He was late. For the first time since, well, ever.

While he would never describe himself as running down the hallways, he was setting a more hurried pace than normal. The distinct sound of chairs squealing across the floor followed his hastened steps as faces peered disappointedly and determinedly at his progress from within the classrooms.

Embarrassed by his tardiness he quietly slid back the door to the classroom head bent in unspoken apology.

'Ah, Atobe,' Sensei said looking up from his text book. 'No need to rush, your mother called this morning.'

He was concerned that his slackened jaw might resemble the gaping maw of a koi and hastily closed his mouth. 'Ah, she did?'

Sensei nodded and Atobe decided that for the sake of his impeccable attendance record he wouldn't question the idea that his mother had called from France merely to excuse his lateness which she could not have possibly been aware of.  
He cautiously approached his desk. The surface was empty, uncluttered. No construction paper cards, no meticulously detailed confessions of love or sickeningly sweet strawberry filled chocolates. Empty.

As he rested his hand against the opening of the desk he felt the shift of bodies around him leaning inwards eagerly awaiting the revelation prizes he might find inside. Deciding it was best to get it over with he slipped his hand cautiously into the desk. Nothing… no there was something. A note.

Swift flowing river  
heading towards open sea  
unstilled by snowfall

Atobe let his gaze fall lightly across his classmates. He was met with indifference, disappointment, impatience and menacing fury, but none seemed to know about the note.

Unsure of where the notes were leading he pulled the first note from his book and folded them together. Shoving them into his pocket he once again encountered the white tissue paper he'd meant to throw away. He stood to throw it into the bin only to discover that this garbage bag had also been tied off.

Atobe wished that English class could go on forever. Each irregular verb conjugation counting down the seconds until the female population would be released upon him in the five minute break between classes.

The last ten minutes of class was unexpectedly interrupted by a knock on the door. His Student Council secretary, Machi, stepped into the classroom with an apologetic bow.

'Atobe, the vice principal needs to see you. It's urgent,' Machi said shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

'Urgent?' he enquired walking quickly through the empty halls attempting to ignore the laden stares from the classrooms they passed.

Machi stopped suddenly in front of him, nearly causing Atobe to topple right over the junior. The young boy bowed so deeply, Atobe feared he might fall on his head. 'I am so sorry, Atobe-san. It was an accident.'

'What was an accident?' he enquired calmly resisting the urge to bend over to speak to his face.

Machi straightened as suddenly as he'd bowed. The junior's normally calm demeanour agitated and flustered. 'I was taking the budget and proposal for the Cultural Festival to the vice principal and there was an incident…'

'Incident?'

'Honestly I didn't see him coming and then… papers everywhere, d-disaster.'

'Disaster?'

Machi bowed again, twice… no thrice. 'Yes, but I swear I picked all the papers up. Everything, the other boy helped too. I just don't understand…'

Atobe frowned. 'I'm sure a few crumpled papers isn't upsetting the vice principal overly much…'

'Well no,' Machi paused hesitantly. 'It seems that a few pages are… missing.'

'Missing?'

'Two pages of the budget and the requisition and authority form from the prefectural council authorising the street closures and the use of fireworks…' Machi squeezed his eyes closed tight.

'Fuck,' he murmured in English.

'If we don't get the requisition forms approved and back to the council the festival will be ruined,' Machi whispered hysterically.

Atobe pinched the bridge of his nose, he needed to think and quickly. Hyoutei always had the best Cultural Festival. The most extravagant, the most anticipated and attended. If they failed to live up to expectation the school would be dishonoured and he would be the president responsible.

'I don't suppose you know who you ran into?'

Machi shook his head.

Atobe allowed the feeling of panic to swell and rush over him, then took control again. 'Okay. I have a backup of the budget file, so we are covered. I'll see if the council has a file copy of the approved requisition forms, maybe that will be enough.'

'What should I do, President?'

Atobe rested his hand briefly on Machi's shoulder. 'Go back to class, Machi-kun, I will take care of everything.'

Running along the hallways only moments before the bell, Atobe slipped into the student council office and closed the door behind him. He listened to the hallways fill with overly excited voices, to the awkward exchange of words and gifts, grateful that he'd managed to slip through yet again.

Sitting in front of the student council computer he opened the budget file.

Young swallow mother  
nest emptied of young ones  
swindler cries cuckoo

Atobe had never considered himself as someone who would resort to physical violence to relieve his frustration, but this was simply too much. The budget was missing. He'd be forced to type it again from scratch.

'Everything in hand Atobe?' the vice principal asked over the phone.

'Of course,' he replied smoothly. 'Small hiccup, I'll have the forms to you by the end of the day.' 

And because he was Atobe Keigo, of course, they implicitly believed him.

During lunch Mukahi knocked on the door. 'Atobe-buchou, want some chocolate? Jirou gave us tons.'

Without looking up from his work he replied, 'only if it's milk chocolate and only if it's Belgium.'

Mukahi shuffled about in his bag and tossed a small blue box, which he caught in mid air. Swiss… good enough.

At two o'clock he was challenging his preconceived notions about the quality of his penmanship and was considering a remedial calligraphy lesson to decipher the writing that had seemed so clear only days before.

At three, Ohtori visited, bringing with him a bento box. Atobe was forced to stop work when he realised that Ohtori had no intention of ceasing his idle conversation until he actually witnessed Atobe eat. The bento box had rice with spicy fish and a red bean pikelet for dessert. He didn't notice when Ohtori slipped out of the office, but the fish was excellent.

He was on the phone explaining to the council secretary the finer points of operating the fax machine when he noticed the file that had been created just that morning, cuckoo.doc…

A small laugh escaped as he double-clicked the file and the budget opened, complete and in its entirety. The last page was the requisition form, approved, the Diet members scanned signature authorising the street closures and fireworks.

Papers neatly organised he passed the files over to the Vice Principal.

'Thank you, Atobe. I'm sure this years Cultural Festival will be more exciting than any year before. Good luck.'

'I will pass on your good wishes,' he replied graciously.

'I was sorry to call on you today, Atobe. Especially after speaking with your mother this morning. It's a credit to your character that you came in today, I think that maybe you should head home. I'd like to offer you my condolences,' the vice principal smile in what she must have assumed was a sympathetic manner.

And for the first time in his life Atobe had no response at all, so he did the next best thing he could think of. He bowed respectfully and said, 'Thank you.'

It was only on the way home that he realised he'd made it through the entire day without once being forced to accept a Valentine's day gift. He was feeling a little exhilarated. When he returned to school tomorrow it would all be over, no chocolates, no letters, no tears… well maybe a few tears.

But he would be in no way obliged to send out hundreds of gifts in a months time.

Shucking his school bag from his shoulders, Atobe allowed himself to fall back onto his bed, only to collide painfully with Jirou who was somewhat unexpectedly occupying his bed.

'Ah, Atobe!' Jirou blinked and yawned widely. 'You're home.'

'I am,' he replied. 'But why are you here?' he enquired shrewdly.

'How was your Valentine's day?' Jirou asked ignoring his question, which really wasn't unusual at all.

'Strange. Eventful and yet not eventful at all.' Atobe slipped his school jacket from his shoulders and settled back against the pillows.

'What do you mean?' Jirou asked a smile quickly smothered, but given away by the almost imperceptible dimpling of his cheek.

'Well,' Atobe drawled as Jirou snuggled in closer to him. 'I was late for school.'

'Ah no… but you're never late for school.'

'No, but my clocks were wrong this morning,' he replied.

'They seem okay now.'

'Yes, they do. You didn't see anyone fixing them did you?'

'Nope. I was asleep,' Jirou replied.

'Of course. Worn out?'

'So much!' Jirou cried with a stretch. 'I was running around and r— nothing… not so busy I guess…'

Jirou sat up suddenly and leaned over him, pressing a hand against his chest as he grabbed his school bag from the floor. 'I have something for you Atobe, it's not a Valentine though.'

Atobe smiled as Jirou settled cross legged at his side. 'I'm accepting not-Valentines at this point in time.'

Atobe opened the box. Chocolates. Bunnies and kittens. He laughed aloud which caused Jirou to smile in the way that Atobe liked best. Jirou popped a bunny out of the box and promptly bit its head off.

'Did you have the best day?' Jirou asked leaning in close.

Absolutely atrocious day, but… 'Best Valentine's Day ever,' he replied. And surprisingly it was true. 'So… bunnies head first and kittens tails up, right?'

Jirou nodded solemnly and watched intently as Atobe bit the tail of the kitten clean off. Sitting almost nose to nose he had only to lean forward. 'Thanks,' he whispered letting his lips press briefly against the corner of Jirou's mouth. 'Ah Jirou?'

'…'

'What was that about my mother and the um… condolences?' he asked.

'Oh,' Jirou exclaimed with a small jump. 'Oh, ah… try to look sad and such for a week or so, Atobe. Ne?'


End file.
